Whoever Fights Monsters
by Woomie
Summary: A mysterious substance and a remote location brings the Avengers together...but the greatest enemy is in their own minds. Friendship, adversity, set just before AoU because I love the original 6 the mostest.
1. Out of the Night

AN: I do not own Marvel or any rights to any characters or anything. If I did, I would quit my day job. This is set to take place shortly before AoU. Most of my fanfic is set there, because I love the original six more than anyone else, and I love to write them all together. I typically stay away from ships and focus on friendships instead.

I do reference a few things from the second season of Marvel's Agent Carter, but you don't have to have seen it to follow along.

I suck at thinking of titles, so all of the chapter titles come from the poem Invictus, which is one of my favorites, and the main title comes from the Neitzsche quote about staring into the abyss. Full disclosure: I adore every last Avenger, but Hawkeye is my favorite, so there will probably be a lot written from his perspective. Sorry, Clint, I tend to whump you...

This is rated T mostly for language, but some violence and possible triggers as well.

I hope you enjoy, and that people give me reviews / comments / suggestions. Thanks!

CHAPTER 1: Out of the Night

Clint's body flew back and smashed into a wall, his head snapping back so hard his vision tunneled for a moment. He landed in a crouch with his bo staff held in one hand and a small knife in the other as a roar came from the direction that he had come from. His quiver was long since empty, and he knew neither of the weapons he held would stand up against the opponent he faced. Yet, there was no other choice. With a deep breath, he headed back towards a fight he couldn't possibly win.

Eight hours earlier

"Can you imagine me at Disney Land?" demanded Clint as he flipped a switch above his head.

"Not in a million years," admitted Nat with a small smile on her lips. The two were traveling in a Quinjet, and she took a quick second to admire the sight of the unblemished ocean beneath them. In her earlier life, she had scoffed at those who took time to admire beauty, but she had come to appreciate that life was only enhanced by taking a moment to enjoy yourself.

"So many people," Clint was still going. He said the last word like it was a plague. "I mean, I like people okay, but not, like, up close."

"I know, Clint." Natasha was still amused. "I don't think Laura actually wants to go to Disney. She knows what a nightmare it would be for you. I think she just wants you to start thinking about where you could go on vacation with the kids."

Clint opened his mouth, but she continued before he could jump in. "And not that nasty old cabin. There's nothing for the kids to do. Heck, there's not even running water. You need to go somewhere that Laura can actually relax."

Clint huffed in annoyance. Like usual, his partner had practically read his mind. And like usual, she was probably right. "Well, what do --" he broke off when the comm system chimed.

Nat pulled up the translucent screen and was surprised to see who was calling. "Fury. What's wrong?"

Nick looked even grimmer than usual and didn't bother to dispute the fact that something was wrong. "Romanoff, Barton, I need you to divert to the coordinates I'm sending you."

"Wait, right now? You know we're 8 hours into this flight already? And we just got done being shot at? I mean, a lot?" Clint was not impressed. They were coming back from Beijing and had already been given permission to take a week in San Diego to decompress after a long and difficult mission. Not only had it been physically hard, they had ended up having to kill a lot of people. Despite their job description, that was always hard to recover from.

"I know your situation, Agent Barton." Fury gave him a critical eye. "And I'm well aware of how tired you both must be. But I am also aware of what you are capable of. I also expect you to trust that I wouldn't call you in for something small. This is extraordinarily important."

Clint nodded once, not quite willing to apologize, but acknowledging Fury's words. "Yes, Director. What are we looking at?"

"And what's in Alaska?" added Nat, looking at the coordinates he'd sent. Clint mouthed the word Alaska with dismay, but didn't dare complain again.

"There's a small SHIELD facility there, though it's not manned very often. We use it for research that is especially combustible or for a jump-off point for missions. We sent Stark and Banner there to with a team to investigate some technology we seized recently. Thor went along because, well, he was bored and driving everyone crazy. The second day they were there, their communications became...disjointed. When we requested clarification, their responses became even more nonsensical. Eventually, they stopped responding at all. Rogers took a team to investigate and hasn't checked in since arrival. And now the whole facility is in stealth mode. We can't even see it with our satellites."

"What exactly does stealth mode entail?" asked Natasha cautiously, her brow furrowed.

"It means the whole damn thing moved underground, under the tundra." Fury scowled. Even radio waves can't get out of there. My closest team is 8 hours out. You can be there in two. I need you on this."

"I've already adjusted our direction," admitted Clint. He might grumble, but he'd never leave his teammates hanging.

"What exactly were they studying? And why did it have to be so far in the middle of nowhere?" Natasha asked, eyes narrowed.

"An old employee of Howard Stark's recently died and among his things we found a container holding something he called 'zero matter.' According to his notes, he and Howard both felt zero matter came from beyond our world, and it was far too dangerous to allow do anything but contain it. It sounds like they attempted to get it all off-world – don't ask me the details, I don't understand them – but it looks like this Dr. Wilkes kept a little bit.

"This substance is extraordinarily explosive and dangerous, so we sent Stark out where any mistakes won't kill whole cities. He pulled in Banner because the research notes indicated Howard was considering whether or not gamma radiation could disrupt this stuff and allow us to destroy it."

Clint whistled softly. "Well, shit."

"But there's no evidence of an explosion," mused Natasha. "Does this Wilkes' research talk about zero matter causing illness or confusion?"

"No," Fury scowled again. He had resting scowl face. "But then again, the notes are almost 70 years old. I'll send you what I can. You need to get in and find out exactly what has happened here. I want updates every two hours after you land. From now on, use cover names. We'll refer to the zero matter as uranium ore. Good luck, agents." His image disappeared.

Natasha blew out a gusty breath as she started reading what Fury had sent. "This...is not good, Clint. When will we be there?"

Clint checked his instruments. "Three hours. This is at the ass-end of nowhere. The closest town is Sogwan. Sog-WAN? And that's a tiny town almost 200 miles away. There is nobody and nothing around. We don't have much for supplies, so we'll have to get in and use what's there." He let the silence saturate the air for a while, allowing Nat to read. "What do you think we'll find, Tasha?"

She just shook her head. "I have no idea."


	2. Black as the Pit

AN: Happy Thanksgiving! I'm going to try and add a chapter every day. I enjoyed writing this chapter because I love the Hawkeye/Black Widow friendship.

Of course, I own nothing and I love comments, suggestions, and reviews!

CHAPTER 2: Black as the Pit

The landscape was the very definition of bleak, craggy and frozen, but with only a dusting of snow. There was no vegetation at all, just black rock peeking out from under the snow in sullen points. The wind buffeted the jet as Clint took a low, slow flyover of the spot where the building should be. He and Widow both had eyesight well beyond 20/20, but he couldn't see anything out of place until...that might be a seam, exposed by the blowing snow. He started to turn for another pass when a giant snout appeared from under the ground. "Oh, sh--"

As fast and maneuverable as the Quinjet was, they were too low and moving far too slowly to avoid the anti-aircraft fire, for what Clint had seen was a gun. There were no adjustments he could make, nothing he could do to alter their speed or trajectory as the fire cut through the right wing and they spiraled at the ground. Despite their low altitude, the impact was brutal and they seemed to slide forever before finally stopping upside-down. Everything went dark.

Natasha blinked awake, first aware that most of her was very, very cold. Her abdomen and right arm, however, were hot. She shivered and winced as pain shot through her. "Hang on," said a familiar voice, Clint's voice. "I'll have you down in a second. It's gonna hurt though."

"Of course it is," she sighed, blinking again and trying to make sense of what she could see. She was hanging almost entirely upside-down from her Quinjet harness, and the cockpit was in shambles around her. In fact, it looked like it had totally torn off of the rest of the jet, leaving only the view screen and nose completely whole. There were spasmodic sparks around her and she could smell blood, jet fuel, and snow.

As she completed her assessment, Clint got her harness loose and eased her down and to her feet. He held onto her as she hissed and struggled to bear her own weight. "Sorry, Tasha. A piece of metal sliced your stomach. It's not deep, but it bled a fair amount. Where else does it hurt?"

"Right arm," she grunted, forcing herself to straighten away from his support. Typically, he didn't let go.

"Can you walk?"

"Of course I can. Where are you hurt? And what's the situation?"

"Well, somebody shot at us from the spot where our allies are supposed to be. I'd guess we ended up about a mile away. I haven't tried to get a message out yet, but I wouldn't be totally surprised if the system is hosed since they kind of broke our plane in half. Whether we can let Fury know or not, nobody is anywhere close to us and there's no shelter. We'll have to get inside that facility."

"Okay, sounds about right." Nat forced herself to stand straighter, holding her left arm over her stomach and her right stiffly at her side. Clint finally let her go, and she gave him a quick once-over in the dimming light. She couldn't see any injuries except for a face full of scratches, but black could hide a lot, especially in the low light. "I'll check if I can get a message out, you search for supplies in this mess."

Clint nodded, knowing better than to try and coddle his partner. He moved off and Nat watched him for another moment, still looking for injuries. Considering the state of the plane – and her own body – there was no way he was entirely unscathed. She noted how he favored his left side, but let him go. They had to get out of the cold or the injuries wouldn't matter anyway.

In a few short moments, Clint returned with some much-needed good news and dragging a long metal box. "Found the weapons locker intact. Our cold weather gear is here, but no food. He knelt gingerly and opened the box, pulling out two quivers, his bow, and Natasha's two favorite guns.

"Nice," she was appreciative. "But you'll need to get my shoulder in place before giving me those." Clint just nodded and stood. Nat backed against the windshield and braced herself. "Do it."

Clint stepped forward, took her elbow in one hand and braced the other against their makeshift wall, and suddenly pushed up and back. Natasha's breath rushed out of her but she didn't cry out. They just stood face-to-face for a moment as she caught her breath. She was grateful that he'd neither argued nor delayed things, but just got it out of the way. And he didn't waste his breath asking if she was okay.

"I'm good," she said when she was ready to move. "The system's totally dead. Our only chance is if you got off an emergency beacon before we stopped." He nodded. "Then give me those guns and a freaking coat."

Natasha wanted to head for the building right away, but even Clint couldn't see in the dark, and it was truly, profoundly dark. Instead, they only put on one layer of extra warmth instead of the two that were available and used the other two to fuel a fire. They put the fire inside the weapons locker to protect it from the wind, and Natasha managed to tip what was left of the cockpit up so they could sit inside a roughly conical shape. There were holes in it, but it did a decent job of blocking out the worst of the wind, and trapped a little of the fire's heat.

Clint went scavenging again and found a piece of the fuselage that he dragged in front of the largest hole, which helped even more. He also pulled off the bottoms of the pilot and copilot seats so they didn't have to sit on the cold ground.

"Okay, Tasha. Let me see that injury."

They had long before established a series of "teammate rules" that they followed on missions, and the one that caused the most irritation was that you had to let your teammate see and tend your injuries. So Natasha gritted her teeth and peeled back her parka and shirt. She hissed as she worked the shirt free because it was adhered to her with dried blood. The skin immediately pebbled with the cold.

Clint had put a little snow in a curved piece of wreckage over the fire, and he now dipped a bit of cloth he'd torn from his shirt into it. With an apologetic look, he wiped off the injury. Nat just gritted her teeth. The wound was jagged but not large, maybe 3 inches across, and it was no longer bleeding. It was shallower than she'd thought. If they had the supplies, she would have stuck a couple stitches in it, but of course that wasn't an option. It was lucky she rarely got infections, because she was sure it was teeming with bacteria despite the cold.

Clint pulled her clothes back down. "I can't really do anything for it. I'm sure it hurts like a bitch, but it just needs to be cleaned well and maybe stitched." She nodded her agreement.

"You have to be hurt more than the cuts on your face. Spill, Clint."

He shrugged. "Honestly, there's a ton of these tiny cuts on my arm too, but mostly I'm just sore." She looked skeptical but he continued. "My right knee hurts, but walking around made it feel a lot better. I'm good." He looked out pointlessly at the dark. "I just wish we had something to eat, but there's not going to be any game this far north, even if I could see it. I couldn't even find fuel for our fire."

"Let's get some rest."

They ended up with Clint's back against the outside of their makeshift shelter with Natasha sitting between his legs. They literally zipped themselves both inside Clint's coat, and put Nat's over their legs as best they could. It should have been awkward and felt overly intimate, but they had developed an easy balance. On missions, you did what you had to do. They had slept in the same bed, cleaned each other's wounds, and cared for each other in any situation you could think of. They ignored normal boundaries when their lives were on the line, and were able to slide back into a more typical friendship when the mission was done. It was extremely unusual, yet it worked for them.

The wind howled, Clint's stomach growled, and the friends shivered in the cold. But eventually, they fell into an uneasy doze. As Natasha allowed herself to drift off, she thought, I'll be really pissed if we've come all this way just to freeze to death.


	3. The Fell Clutch of Circumstance

AN: This chapter is pretty short, but there's a natural break after these events so...*shrugs*

Sorry about the end of it. Please don't hate me! ;-)

CHAPTER 3: The Fell Clutch of Circumstance

After just a few hours, the two assassins came awake at the same time. Their meager fire had gone out and the cold was piercing. But what had woken them was actually good news. The moon was finally out, shining bleakly through the windshield and making the way clear enough that they could follow the swatch of disturbed earth the Quinjet had made as it slid. They took just a few moments to situate themselves, then they braved the wind, which luckily had died down quite a bit.

It would have been a miserable walk even with their cold weather gear, and perfectly healthy, and in daylight. Instead, it was a nightmare. Clint favored his leg more and more the farther they went, and Natasha's stomach wound pained her with every single step. Still, she could tell that it was already closing and her arm felt immensely better already. Of course, that might just mean she was numb. Both of them were shivering uncontrollably by now.

They moved slowly and nearly silently, helping each other without words. Despite their injuries, Nat knew they'd been extremely lucky not to be killed in the crash.

They had to slow down even more when they came to their initial impact site, since they could no longer re-trace their own path of destruction. The moon gave enough light for them to keep a straight line, but not a lot more.

Suddenly, Clint pulled her to a stop. He crouched low and she mirrored him immediately, pulling a gun. He gave the sign that he'd seen something and was going to check it out. He lowered himself the rest of the way and crawled forward, her following slowly to cover him.

"Oh, my God," came his whisper. "It's a body. A frozen body." Nat rushed forward and they turned the man over. His uniform was clearly visible. "It's Shaw. He's SHIELD." Clint stayed still a moment. "And there are more bodies." They laboriously checked each one, checking for a pulse even though the bodies were rigid with the cold.

"Widow, there are drag marks," Clint pointed, but Nat couldn't see a damn thing. She followed him without hesitation though. Even Thor deferred to Clint's superior sight.

The last body looked strange. As she moved forward, she realized the strange shape was because there were actually two bodies together. The first man was on his back, with the second's arms still hooked under his shoulders. The second body was half in and half out of a hatch that if closed would be level with the ground. Clint checked the first man's pulse and shook his head. As he moved to check the pulse of the man who had been dragging him, a weak moonbeam fell across the man's face.

Nat's breath whooshed out of her again. "Steve."


	4. Unconquerable Soul

AN: Thank you to those who followed or favorited. It's probably pathetic how happy I am to have anyone read it. This chapter is a lot longer...things are moving now. Enjoy and please comment or review. 3

CHAPTER 4: Unconquerable Soul

It was so bright inside the hatch – inside the SHIELD facility – that Clint and Natasha had to squint for a long time before they could actually see anything. They appeared to be looking at a bare-bones white hallway with a ladder that lead up to the hatch, about 8 feet above the dingy floor. Their discussion on the best way to get Steve down and inside was short and pointed, as they were both eager to get into the warmth.

Clint clambered over Steve and most of the way down the ladder, wrapping one arm around the man's waist and keeping the other hand on the ladder. From her position above them, Nat disentangled Steve's arms from the other man and slowly leveraged him back until he began to slide down. Clint stepped down the ladder as more of Steve came in, and Nat took hold of Steve's wrists to try to slow his descent as well. It was mostly successful, and they ended up with Steve propped against Clint and Nat leaning through the hatch.

"Okay, you can let go," breathed Clint. He staggered as Steve's full weight came against him, but didn't drop him. He lowered him carefully to the ground. Nat climbed in and closed the hatch quietly. A hiss and metallic clang made them jump, and the hatch's metal handle turned itself.

"I think we just got locked in," Clint grumbled, but even that couldn't take their focus away from their friend's body.

"Oh, Rogers," sighed Nat, putting a hand against his frozen cheek. Then she stiffened. "He's breathing, Clint. We're morons. He's been frozen before and survived!"

"With medical help! We have to find the medical bay and get him warmed up!"

"Let's get him out of sight and get the lay of the land. It's the best we can do right now." Nat pulled away and jogged quietly down the hallway. To their right, there was a dead end with just one door, which proved to be a furnace room with no space around the furnace itself. The first door to their left was locked, but the second opened easily. It was a storage space lined with tall metal shelves covered in boxes full of tool, nuts, bolts, and the like. "This should work until we can clear the area," she reported.

Clint nodded. He'd taken off his coat and covered Steve in it. "Okay. Let's go, buddy. We'll be back as soon as we can." He cast a look – but only one – up to the hatch. It hurt to leave the others outside, but there wasn't any choice, and there was nothing that could be done for them any more.

Natasha put her coat over Steve as well, then they leveraged him up. He was deadweight and they ended up having to carry him between them. It was a tense trip, since they were completely vulnerable because they needed all four hands to carry their friend.

The storage closet was even warmer than the hallway, and large enough that they were able to lay Steve flat. Nat rubbed his hands as Clint checked the hallway again. Nat turned toward the door and half-rose, starting to say something when suddenly there was a hand around her neck and she was lifted right off her feet.

Steve's hand was as cold and hard as block of ice around her neck. His head hardly turned as Clint hit him on the back of the head, then without taking his eyes off Nat, he backhanded the archer into the high metal shelves, bringing them down onto all three of them. This, finally, broke Steve's concentration, and Nat twisted free, falling backward and gasping.

Steve threw the shelf off his back and took a step toward Nat again, but Clint tackled him around the knees, so he landed on the shelves that had so recently landed on top of him. Steve kicked out, but only caught Clint with a glancing blow in the chest. This was still enough to knock him against the door.

Nat dove at the door and turned the handle, so she and Clint half fell through it. Then she slammed it shut and turned the heavy lock. There was a thud and an angry shout through the door.

"What the hell!" demanded Clint, staring at the door. The fight had either re-opened some of his cuts or given him a new one, because blood running over one eye.

Nat rubbed her neck, then her shoulder. "Did you see his eyes? I have never, ever seen him look like that. I'm sure he didn't know who I was." She swallowed. "We have to knock him out so we can give him medical attention. And we have to figure out what the HELL happened here." She rubbed her shoulder and covered a wince. Clint fought the urge to ask if she was hurt, knowing he'd only get a glare or a shrug.

"Do you think he attacked everyone?"

"I don't know." Nat was thinking even while they scanned their surroundings again, trying to ignore the sounds of Steve apparently throwing himself against the door over and over. He should have been able to kick the door open, but instead he was mindlessly throwing himself against it. "It looked like he was trying to get that guy back inside," she said slowly. "And SHIELD was getting weird responses before he ever got here."

"He's not the one who shot us down either – he was outside longer than that." Clint's eyes widened. "Whatever's causing...this...is here. And is probably going to effect us too." A particularly loud thud startled him. "Damn, I hope that room holds him."

"Then I guess we better move faster."

Clint nodded grimly. With one last glance at the door, they moved farther down the hall.


	5. Whatever Gods May Be

AN: Everything about this chapter gives me chills! I hope it does for you too...in a good way. :-)

CHAPTER 5: Whatever Gods May Be

The base was not large. The center was a barracks – rows of bunk beds, large shower rooms, a massive kitchen and the biggest room, a mess hall, all forming a rough square. From there, hallways like the one Strike Team Delta had entered in, went out in irregular spokes. The hallway they'd come from was one of the shortest, and had only storage and maintenance closets, most of which were locked. There were boilers and the like, and everything was running. The base was not new, but everything was in good order – except a few rooms that had been absolutely trashed. The first laboratory they found had the door torn off and it was embedded into the next wall. Some of the hallways were longer and connected at the ends with angled halls. These had rooms that resembled conference rooms. It was from one of these conference-type rooms, and the end of a dead-end hall, that they heard a voice.

It was low and rumbling, rising and falling in a way that indicated a non-native English speaker. The words were not clear, but once in a while they could make out a phrase. "At length on raven wings shall vengeance come," rumbled the voice and Clint and Nat both realized it was Thor.

They approached with great caution after their experience with Steve, but their friend looked completely harmless. He was sitting on the floor, Mjolnir on the floor in front of him, his clothes unkempt and his hair a mess. His head was bowed over his knees. "Freedom yet shall find a home/There where the eagle dares not soar/Soon shall the raven find a safe retreat/Asgard, farewell, farewell my native seat!" he chanted, almost singing. The words sent a chill up Clint's spine.

"Thor?" said Nat quietly, crouching next to him, but he never stopped his mumbling. "Thor!" she said it louder, hoping to get him to look at her.

Clint reached past her and grabbed the man's shoulder. "Hey man, it's Clint and Nat."

But Thor shook him off and stood. "Soon the seeds of vengeance shall be sown," he growled, much louder than before. "And Odin's race hurl down thy blood-cemented throne!" He was roaring by the time he finished, and both Clint and Nat stood and took a few steps back. Clint, to Natasha's irritation, shouldered slightly in front of her. Not matter, she used the cover of his heavier form to surreptitiously draw her gun. But what then? Would she really shoot Thor? She wasn't sure it would even hurt him, but she wasn't sure she dared take the chance.

It didn't matter though, because Thor simply looked at them and sat back down, his eyes filling with tears. "Death is bliss – I rush to bleed*" he whispered and fell silent.

"No need for that," said Nat cautiously, crouching down again so they were level with each other. "We're here now, Thor. We found Steve and he's...safe. It will be okay." She was encouraged when Thor's eyes lifted to hers. "Yeah, hey, it's Natasha. Clint's here too. Do you know where Tony and Bruce are? Are they okay?"

But Thor just returned to his mutterings, only reacting if they touched him, by flinging off their hands. Otherwise, he acted as if they weren't even there, even as they talked about him.

"I can't tell if he's got a fever or anything," reasoned Natasha, frustrated. "I don't know what his temperature is supposed to be. He doesn't look injured in any way and I don't smell any alcohol on his breath. Hypothermia could have caused Steve's delusions, but Thor seems physically fine, as far as I can tell. How do you feel?"

Clint shrugged. "Just like I felt before coming inside. Look, why don't you keep trying to get through to him while I clear the rest? You're hardly staying on your feet."

Natasha's glare could have blistered paint, but Clint had built up an immunity to it. And she was beyond exhausted. Her stomach wound still burned, her throat and shoulder throbbed incessantly, and fatigue was dragging her down. She was never one to let any pain slow her down, but she was far from her best and even with a bum knee he could move faster than she could right now. "Fine. We have to have seen at least half of this place by now. Check back every 10 minutes."

"20 minutes," argued Clint, already halfway to the door. "Or I'll never get done." He slipped out of the room, pleased to have the last word for once.

Natasha sat all the way down and continued talking to Thor in a quiet voice, though he wasn't acknowledging her in any way. She talked about each Avenger and what they had accomplished together. She reminded him of little things each of them liked, but he just kept muttering and muttering, only half of it in English. He never even looked at her.

Then she said, "Clint is just looking for the others, then he'll be back."

Thor's glance sharpened for just a second. "Ah," he said softly. "He goes to hunt monsters."

Thor is quoting from 'Race of Odin', a poem by Robert Southey


	6. This Place of Wrath and Tears

AN: I totally skipped this chapter...oops. I had my numbering all wrong. Sorry for the confusion!

CHAPTER 6: This Place of Wrath and Tears

Tony sat in the corner of the lab, with every light out. The door was locked and the six-inch-thick emergency hatch was down. He had every single camera in the place on and the images they captured routed to him. And yet he was so very, very afraid.

He had been afraid before, even terrified. He had hidden from people who were looking for him and would never stop looking for him. He had been afraid of himself and what he was capable of. But he had never felt this immensity of it. It consumed him.

He was freezing down to his very soul, because he knew that he might still kill them all. Reality was a fleeting thing that flowed and changed like water instead of staying steady. Yet reality was supposed to be his anchor. He studied it, learned it, used it to learn and make and build. When reality shifted, he was useless. Who even was he without that foundation? He looked at his hands, and they were shaking.

It was so cold.

Against his will, his eyes slid to the innocuous box in front of him, next to the bank of monitors that provided the only light in the room. He'd tried so hard to get its secrets. He'd poked and plumbed and examined. And he'd never realized that it was learning him right back. As it learned, it twisted. It dove into his soul and began to warp him.

Oh, he had tried to fight it. He sent them all away. He closed his door and ignored their shouts. He had tried to tell them until the voice didn't believe him so he smashed it. He looked down toward the floor, but it was too dark to see the mess he had made when they had said more were coming. He could fix it, probably. But what was the use when the voice wouldn't listen?

Some were already inside, so he turned up all of the lights so they couldn't sleep and watched them roam the halls looking for him. And when more came, he shot them out of the sky. They kept sending people to take it away from him, and that could never happen. He would bend reality itself, if he had to. He would take the world and remake it. He would never come out. He couldn't let anyone else be twisted like this.

He stared at the box and it stared back. But he wasn't afraid any more, because he was the monster.

Sent from Mail for Windows 10


	7. The Bludgeonings of Chance

CHAPTER 6: The Bludgeonings of Chance

Clint started down the next hall. This one seemed to contain labs, and it wasn't straight like the others he'd checked, but meandered first to the right then back to the left. He methodically checked each room, and upon opening the third, he was attacked. Six men came at him, but it wasn't a typical fight. They were almost rabid, striking out wildly and practically climbing over each other to get to him.

He played defense for his first couple of minutes, but there was no analyzing their fight patterns. Clint shoved the man in front of him so he could move farther into the room. Normally, staying in the doorway would give him an advantage against multiple opponents, but he recognized them as SHIELD agents, and he wanted to win the fight without killing anyone. Perversely, this made it much more difficult. He took two solid hits to his back and a hand grabbed his hair. He reached back, grabbed the man's shirt, and threw him over his shoulder.

Dropping low and spinning, he kicked the ankles of two more, knocking them back and causing a third to become entangled. He came up and took a punch to the face that allowed him to get under the next man's guard. It hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, reminding him that he'd been in way too many fights – and a plane crash – in the last day or so. But it gave him the chance to deliver a knock-out punch to the man who'd hit him.

The man behind him took the opportunity to jump onto his back, but Clint had sensed him coming, and threw him over one shoulder again, this time into the men in front of him. With all but two on the floor, he was able to drop and deliver three quick hits to temples with the hilt of his heaviest dagger. Another man dove for him and Clint barely managed to twist so he landed on his back with his attacker on top of him. The man snapped his teeth at Clint's face like an enraged dog. Clint pushed his astonishment to the back of his mind; he knew this guy, Trenton, and he was one of the most strategic fighters he'd ever met, not this crazed zombie.

Clint pulled up his bow and used it to leverage the man back, then flipped them over. He increased the pressure against the others' throat, trying to cut off his air without killing him. But a couple of hands grabbed his shoulders and threw him off. He stumbled over a body on the ground, his fall saving him from the haymaker that swished above him.

Only two of his attackers were still on their feet, including the one he'd tried to choke, but the one who'd thrown him was absolutely huge. He ducked another wild punch and the big one screamed in rage. It was a purely animal sound. Clint jumped to the side, but his injured knee betrayed him and buckled, allowing Trenton to land a bruising kick to his back.

Clint jumped quickly, but carefully back to his feet, turning toward Trenton and barely blocking three wild swings. He stepped back, half stumbling again over the body at his feet. This stumble put him in range of the big guy, who wrapped a beefy arm around his neck and began to squeeze. Trenton launched himself at both of them, and Clint grabbed the arm at his neck and brought up both feet, using all of his leverage to kick Trenton in the chest so hard that he crashed into the wall behind him and finally fell.

This couldn't help Clint's predicament. He stomped on the man's instep and elbowed him in the ribs repeatedly, but nothing could stop that hold. His sight began to blur and he knew he didn't have long. With reluctance, he turned his dagger and prepared to stab him. He hoped it wouldn't be fatal.

Just as he tensed his muscles to strike, the lights began to flash in a disorienting pattern. Clint closed his eyes against the seizure-inducing lights. The grip on his neck loosened, and he twisted sideways and dropped his weight, pulling free, and spun to smash the hilt of the dagger into the man's temple without opening his eyes. Hearing nothing, Clint opened his eyes carefully.

Seeing nobody on their feet, and the lights returned to normal, Clint bent over at the waist to catch his breath. He'd find some zip ties – one of the agents had to be carrying some – and secure them just as soon as he could breathe again. His body was crying out for food, water, and rest, but there wasn't exactly time for any of it. "Sorry, self," he muttered.

Then, he heard the roar.


	8. The Horror of the Shade

AN: Super short and angsty...lol

CHAPTER 7: The Horror of the Shade

It was so very, very dark. He had been angry. No, he had been beyond angry. He had been blind with rage. Every pain, every loss he'd suffered, every atrocity he'd seen, every guilty pang he'd ever felt had all been compressed into a white-hot hole of pain. He had fought furiously. He wasn't even sure if he fought others or himself. And he'd been so very, very cold again. He didn't feel the cold very often, but when he did, he couldn't seem to shake it. He felt like he was in the ice again.

Was he in the ice? Had he never really escaped? Was it all a dream? He drifted on the pain of that thought for a while. He lashed out blindly, and the pain in his hand centered him.

No, he was not in the ice. He was standing up, leaning against a wall. A door, maybe. Yes, there was the handle. There was some space around him...it wasn't the plane. It was nearly pitch black, but it hadn't been. The lights had flashed and flashed until it hurt his eyes and his brain, and someone had smashed the light. Maybe he had. Then, more clarity.

He struggled to remember. Someone was out in the cold. Someone needed him. He just wished he knew who.


	9. Charged with Punishments

AN: I rewrote this chapter 4 times, trying to keep it from getting OOC for Nat. What do y'all think? Would love suggestions for how to improve it!

CHAPTER 8: Charged with Punishments

Natasha was not afraid very often. She had long ago stopped fearing death. She didn't fear pain much, either. And, despite her cynical nature, some combination of optimism and hubris lead her to believe she could get out of any situation, no matter how dire. But the roar that echoed through the halls brought her to her feet in a rush of fear. "Clint."

She had heard that roar before. She had watched kind, compassionate eyes bleed into blind rage, and had fled the green colossus. As much as she liked the man, she knew there was no reasoning with the monster. She ran to the door, but Thor had jumped to his feet too, and blocked her way with an outstretched arm.

"My lady, you must not go out there! There is a monster on the loose and you will not be safe."

"Yeah, I know," she dodged to the side, but he side-stepped in her way.

"You must stay here."

"Um...nope. Clint is out there. I gotta go." She ducked under his arm and jogged for the door, but he tackled her. She twisted as they fell, so they were face to face. She shoved furiously but ineffectually at his chest. When that didn't work, she hooked a leg behind his and bucked her hips to roll them, but he was so big he simply rolled them again, keeping her trapped. Why did he have to be built like a brick shithouse? She wished she had her widow bites.

Changing tactics, Nat grabbed two fistfuls of Thor's shirt, pulling him even closer. "Thor, Clint is out there. You remember Clint? He had your back. He fought with you. We can't leave him alone to face the monster. It wouldn't be honorable."

Indecision warred across Thor's expressive face. "But...I cannot fail you, my lady. If I leave my post and join my comrade, innocents may be hurt." There was a definite story behind the pain on Thor's face, but Nat had no time to go there now.

"I'm a warrior too. We'll go together and keep everyone safe."

"I...I..." the roar came again, and awareness flowed away from Thor's eyes. He began his chanting again. "Then Thor, when thou from fight shall cease/When death shall lay that arm in peace/Still shall the nations fear thy nod/The first of warriors now, and then their god."*

Another roar literally shook the wall, and Nat reared back and slapped Thor as hard as she could from her position on the floor, then did it again. She could feel guilty later, but now she was out of time. "THOR! Snap out of it and let me up! Clint needs us!" He looked surprised and confused, but he didn't answer and he didn't budge. Furious tears filled Nat's eyes. This was what she was afraid of – her own failure costing her best friend his life.

This time, Thor is quoting from "Death of Odin," also by Robert Southey


	10. Bloody but Unbowed

AN: One of the reasons that Clint is probably my favorite Avenger is that he is out there taking on impossible challenges all the time. For the same reason, I got absolute chills during the scene in Endgame where Steve faces down an entire army alone.

Anyway, enjoy! And...sorry. *wince*

CHAPTER 9: Bloody but Unbowed

Clint's heart dropped at the sound of the roar. He knew exactly who...what...it was. In a facility this size, it could kill easily everyone. Steve was trapped and out of his mind, unable to really defend himself, Thor was helpless, and he and Nat were at the end of another dead-end. The soldiers he'd just fought were innocents and all unconscious, unable to even hide themselves, and he didn't even know where Tony was. With a sigh of severe annoyance, he sprinted toward the noise, which had come from the general direction of the mess hall.

The sight was terrifying. The Hulk was so big it couldn't stand completely upright, and it was tearing up the bolted-down tables and flinging them around. One went flying down the hall where Clint had left Nat and Thor, and he knew he had to distract it. His arrows wouldn't do more than annoy it, but he couldn't exactly afford to get too close.

He shot three arrows in rapid succession in a row down the Hulk's back, and one of them actually stuck, though it didn't draw any blood. The monster whirled with a roar that made the whole room tremble. It threw the 100-lb table in its hand at its tormentor, but Clint was already on the move, ranging to his left.

"That's right, big guy. I'm the one annoying you," Clint muttered. As he hoped, the Hulk moved toward him and away from the hall. Clint shot its hand, then shot a delayed incendiary at the wall behind it. The Hulk simply swatted away the first arrow and leaped across the room, forcing Clint too duck, sprint, and slide under its massive fist. He jumped over a table that was on its side and hid, heart pounding wildly. He desperately needed more room, but there just wasn't any. The only thing he could think to do is to plant his incendiary arrows all around the room, then run out and set them off, hopefully burying the thing. It was far from ideal, but he had no other way to even slow it down. If he were really lucky, maybe the shock of the explosion would allow Banner out.

He peeked out the side of the table and shot another incendiary arrow directly across from the first one while the Hulk smashed another table out of its way, looking for him. He scuttled to the other side of the table, then the table disappeared as it was batted away like a toy. Clint cursed and shot six arrows right at the creature's eyes and he ran for his life. He shot and shot and shot but couldn't even slow down to look where he was shooting. For a few moments, which felt like an eternity, he did nothing but run and dodge for his life. Then his luck ran out and a table caught him in a glancing blow that sent him flying into the kitchen.

Clint's body flew back and smashed into a wall, his head snapping back so hard his vision tunneled for a moment. He landed in a crouch with his bo staff held in one hand and a small knife in the other as a roar came from the direction that he had come from. His quiver was long since empty, and he knew neither of the weapons he held would stand up against the opponent he faced. Yet, there was no other choice. With a deep breath, he headed back towards a fight he couldn't possibly win.

Then again, what choice did he have? Fighting the urge to vomit, Clint crawled behind a piece of the wall that had come down and grabbed a used arrow. He had to bring the ceiling down, and he had to do it fast.

But Clint's time had run out. A hand the size of his entire torso grabbed him and threw him across the room and into the far wall. Things crunched as he hit, and his body slid down the wall, spent and useless. He tried to move and only coughed. His mouth filled with blood. Well, this looks bad, he thought sardonically. I wish I'd taken that vacation.

The Hulk roared, as if wanting him to get up and keep fighting, but it was all he could do to keep breathing. Face set in a fearsome scowl, the giant stomped over and lifted its fist. Clint refused to close his eyes. He would die with them wide open.


	11. The Menace of the Years

CHAPTER 10: The Menace of the Years

There was a blur, and suddenly someone was between Clint and the giant fist. He blinked and realized that it was Thor and he was...holding back the Hulk's hand. Clint was impressed.

"I'm sorry for the delay, Barton," grunted the Asgardian, sliding backwards, then setting his feet and actually heaving the Hulk backwards.

"No problem," Clint tried to say, but no sound actually emerged except a gurgle. He realized that someone was kneeling next to him, and he turned his eyes that way. "Tasha," he mouthed, pleased that she was there. He frowned to see tears in her eyes.

"Oh my God. Clint. Oh my God." The unshakeable redhead didn't know what to do or where to touch him. She knew first aid, but this was so beyond that. He was lying halfway propped against some debris like a broken doll, and blood bubbled out of his mouth. His lips formed her name and she began to tremble. She settled for laying her hand gently against his face. There was crashing and yelling behind her, but she could only see Clint.

"Natasha!" Thor bellowed, finally getting her attention. "I have to get Banner out of here! You must find Stark. He took that cursed thing that has addled our minds and locked it up to try and help us. He has it in the room of communications. Find it and destroy it, or put it outside and I will destroy it with Mjolnir."

Forcing herself to understand his words, Nat nodded. Thor responded by spinning Mjolnir and flying straight up through the ceiling. He landed back on the roof and called down, "Come out and get me, Banner!"

With yet another roar, the Hulk grabbed the sides of the hole and peeled back the ceiling like a banana to make the spot big enough to climb out. Achieving this, he tackled Thor and the two crashed to the ground, making a Thor-sized crater.

Thor pushed his feet against the monster's chest and flung him off, making sure it was away from the facility. His mind and body were his own again, and he would keep the creature away from the rest of them no matter what it took. They came together again and rolled like wrestlers, neither able to keep the upper hand. Thor saw bodies in the snow but couldn't let them distract him, nor could he think about Barton. The man had been alive, but his fragile body looked terribly broken. A trained warrior, Thor channeled his worry and guilt into the fight. "Come, Banner," he growled. "Let us 'be like the raging torrent's foe'* until I can bring you back to your right mind as well."

The two titans fought, rolled, bit and struck across the desolate landscape, creating deep scars that would soon be covered by the snow that fell in gentle contrast to their violence. They ranged for miles until, finally, Thor struck a massive blow to the Hulk's jaw with Mjolnir and the creature smashed into the side of a boulder. The boulder cracked, but the Hulk was staggered. He shook his head and looked back at Thor, who carefully set down his hammer.

"I am your friend," he said kindly, pretending every inch of him didn't hurt. "I am here to help. Our minds were addled, but help has come. Clint and Natasha have come. Shall we go see them?"

The Hulk shook again and made a surprisingly sad sound. Then he trembled all over, and suddenly shrunk back down to a very pale Bruce Banner. "What have I done?" whispered Bruce, and promptly passed out.

* This is from "Death of Odin" by Robert Southey again.


	12. Unafraid? Part 1

AN: With my troubles updating, this chapter completely disappeared. I'm so sorry...it makes a lot more sense with it included! sheesh...I swear I'll get better at this.

CHAPTER 12: Unafraid

Steve froze at the sight in front of him. Finally back in his own mind, he had broken the lock where he'd been held, trying to remember how he'd even gotten there. He'd heard horrible roaring, crashing, and other sounds for a while now, and he ran toward them as soon as he got out.

Now he stood in what was left of the mess hall. The walls were full of gaping holes and not a single table remained bolted to the floor. One was actually impaled through a wall. But across from him was a sight that made his blood run cold.

Clint Barton lay on the floor, blood dripping from his mouth, and eyes dim with pain. Natasha knelt next to him in the rubble, holding his hand with her head bowed.

Steve couldn't move. "N-natasha," his voice wasn't loud, but she still heard him over the wind whistling through the hole in the ceiling.

"Steve." He'd never heard her use that tone. She cleared her throat. "Steve, tell me where communications is located. I have to--" her eyes strayed to her partner, but she resolutely looked up again. "I have to find Tony and get him to destroy the thing that's been messing with everyone's minds. Can you...can you carry Clint to medical? I'll meet you there." She knew the direction the medical bay had to be, and she knew the super soldier could carry Clint more gently than she could – in his arms instead of over his shoulder.

"Yes, of course." Steve finally walked over to the two assassins. Clint's eyes drifted to him and he did a tiny version of the chin tilt he often used to greet other men. For some reason, this made his condition hit Steve even harder. "Go, Nat. I'll stay with Clint and do everything I can for him." He knelt on Clint's other side. "The hallway straight behind you, last door on the left."

Nat stared at Clint and didn't move, but Steve wasn't about to rush her. "Dammit, Barton," she said finally, "don't you DARE die on me. I'll...I'll be back in a few."

Clint looked into his partner's eyes. He couldn't see very well any more but he whispered, "No' dead yet." Nat chuckled wetly and left quickly before any tears could fall. As she headed into the hallway Steve had indicated, she heard Clint's pained groan and it took every last bit of training she had to keep going.

She quickly saw the correct room. It was easy to see because of the heavy-duty blast-style door it had. Luckily, there was a window. She was so intent on reaching Tony that she didn't hear the man behind her until it was too late to dodge the knife coming at her back. She threw herself sideways, so the strike went into her left shoulder. She gasped from the pain, feeling it scrape along bone. Despite the pain, her training kicked in and she spun a roundhouse kick that connected in the side of the agent's head and dropped him like a rock.

But the damage was done. She was bleeding freely, and the knife was in a place she would never be able to reach. She wasn't about to let it stop her, though. She banged both palms on the door and began to yell.

"Tony! TONY! It's Natasha. Black Widow. I know you're trying to protect everyone by locking that – thing – whatever it is, in there. But we have to destroy it! Do you have a suit on?"

She squinted through the thick glass and could just make out an outline of a man next to a small, glowing rectangle. "TONY!"

He turned to her slowly, then walked toward the door with shuffling, zombie-like steps. Her jaw dropped open when she saw his ravaged face. The man looked like he'd aged 20 years since she'd seen him. He looked haggard and haunted. His eyes held the look of someone who had survived horrors beyond their imagination. Against her will, her eyes pricked with tears again. He took one more step, and she realized that he was wearing about half of an Iron Man suit. It looked like he'd been removing pieces.

"Tony, do you understand me?"

"There are monsters," he said, and though she couldn't hear him, she read his lips. The words reminded her so much of things Thor had said before he'd regained himself that she shivered a little.

"Destroy the box and you'll destroy the monsters," insisted Nat. She swayed as she stood, and cursed a little in Russian. She was bleeding too much but had no damn time to pass out.

"Destroy..." Tony was thinking. "I'll destroy the monsters. I'm a monster and I can destroy the monsters. Yes, yes, yes. No more monsters."

He turned away and lifted a gauntleted hand, and the room was suddenly so bright Natasha could see anything. She suddenly realized what he'd said and tried to yell at him again. "Be careful, Stark! Don't kill yourself!" She tried to see what was happening, but all she could see was the light. Then her body gave out, and it all faded to black.

Sent from Mail for Windows 10


	13. Unafraid?

CHAPTER 12: Unafraid...?

Thor jumped into the ruined mess hall with a half-clothed Bruce on his back. Steve ducked out of the medical area to check on the noise and ran over to them. "Quick, bring him in here. Is he okay?"

"I have no doubt he is very cold, but I do not think he is injured," said Thor. "My friend, it is good to see you well."

"You too," said Steve briskly but sincerely.

Thor followed Steve through the door and set Bruce down gently on one of the narrow beds. He blinked at the sight of both Clint and Natasha unconscious in other beds. "Are...?

"They are both alive, but they need a lot more medical attention than I can give them. I think Natasha will be okay if I can stop the bleeding and stitch up her stab wound. Clint is...it's bad." Thor bowed his head.

"If only I had come to myself earlier!"

"No," Steve shook his head decisively. "We can't do that. We can't go there. They need us at our best right now. Tony is in communications. I think he destroyed that...thing, but I couldn't get the door open to check on him. Do you think you can smash through it with Mjolnir so we can see how he is?"

"Yes, I have no doubt."

Thor might not, but Steve doubted, as the door was designed to withstand almost anything, but he didn't voice his concerns. Everything was controlled from that room, so he had no idea how they'd get the apparently unconscious Tony out if Thor couldn't break down the door. He mulled it over as he covered Bruce with a couple blankets.

"I hope Stark's mind is intact," said Thor. "He was close to that artifact this entire time. I thought I might go mad even though I was at a distance."

"Me too," said Steve a little sadly. "I know he locked himself in there to protect the rest of us." Thor disappeared and Steve went back to cleaning Nat's stab wound. He had to stay busy, or he would keep hearing the sound Clint had made as he'd picked the man up, right before he'd gone so still. His injuries...

To Steve's surprise, Thor soon returned with Tony. The latter looked ravaged, exhausted, but he was breathing easily and there were no visible wounds except for scratch marks on his arms and face that were obviously from his own hands.

The two did their best to help their stricken friends, and finally Natasha's bleeding slowed enough that Steve could get it truly clean and carefully stitch it up. It wasn't pretty, but it was at least closed, and she came to shortly thereafter. They propped Clint up, but any time they moved him, he moaned in his sleep. Worse, each breath made a horrible rattle. They were at a loss. There was nothing more they could do for him. Natasha dragged herself to Clint's side, held his hand, and kept silent vigil.

In their own way, Thor and Steve silently prayed.


	14. The Master of my Fate?

CHAPTER 13: The Master of My Fate?

There was a sudden sound of multiple pairs of boots landing heavily, and Steve and Thor both spun to attention.

"Stark? Rogers? Thor? Barton? Romanoff? Anybody here to tell us what the hell happened?" called a distinctly American voice. "It's Agent Darvill and I'm here with a team from SHIELD."

Steve threw open the door to see a bunch of armed operatives standing in the wrecked mess hall, with more rappelling down. "Are we glad to see you. Do you have anyone with medical training?"

As it turned out, it was a full team of 24, including four with extensive medical training, which turned out to be more than a blessing. Despite the small size of the med bay, they ended up having to perform a more than 2 hour surgery on Clint to stop his internal bleeding and set the six broken ribs. He also had a broken tibia and collarbone, as well as a wrenched knee, a concussion, and many smaller injuries. He was given blood from three of the men who were a close enough match. He flat-lined twice, but came right back from what Nat called "Barton-variety stubbornness."

The men taking care of Clint weren't pleased that he had to be moved, but repairing the facility would take far more equipment and manpower than they had, so he and the other injureds were flown to a hospital in Anchorage the next day. Doctors didn't want them to be moved from there, but they were garnering far too much attention, so just two days after that they were all on a huge, superbly-medically equipped jet en route to New York. The medical experts and equipment on the plane would have been the envy of many small hospitals.

Natasha wasn't quite as bad off, but she had her own share of injuries, not the least of which was the knife wound. Nobody came out unscathed, and all six of the agents who had arrived with Steve were dead, frozen to death. They couldn't be sure why the men had gone outside, only that Steve had tried to bring them back in before succumbing to the cold and a pretty severe head injury – severe enough that it could have killed an ordinary person. Steve had no idea how the injury had happened.

Since there were only cameras in a few of the main areas of the facility, there were many questions that would never be fully answered. What they did see wasn't pretty. The teams quickly went from efficient to distracted, confused, and finally, violent.

As bad as the physical injuries were, the mental trauma was far worse, especially for those who had been there the longest – Tony and Bruce and their initial team, who had tried so hard to kill Clint. Tony didn't say a word for over a week. He felt responsible for everything, since he hadn't even tried to destroy the device until Natasha found him.

It turned out there wasn't even any zero matter in it – it was all a trap. The machine emitted a wavelength that disrupted the hippocampus over time, causing paranoia, forgetfulness, hallucinations, and even seizures. Fury tracked down the HYDRA cell that had created and planted it and personally removed them all from the land of the living. Even as he did, he wondered if the Avengers would ever be the same again.


	15. Invictus

Last chapter! I really hope you enjoyed it! If you did, or would like to make a request, please comment. It makes my day. :-) Thanks!

CHAPTER 14: Invictus

Tony wouldn't tell anyone what he'd seen during his time with the device, but as the team told him over and over that his actions – hiding the device away at the risk of his own sanity – were heroic, he began to emerge from his shell slowly. He had also figured out that the device was impacted their minds, and had set the lights to flash wildly to briefly disrupt the signal, which had given Steve and Thor a chance to "reset" their minds. Everyone focused on the positive when they talked to Tony, and by mutual agreement, nobody told him that he had shot down Clint and Natasha's plane.

Bruce was also buried in self-recrimination. He fell into a deep depression at the thought that he had nearly killed Clint, and nothing anyone could say to him made any difference. He watched the patchy video of their fight over and over until Natasha found out and stole it. He stayed at the tower because he knew SHIELD wasn't ready to let him out of sight, but he rarely left his room. He wouldn't even visit Clint in medical. Then one day, Thor showed up at Bruce's door.

"Friend Banner, may I come in?"

"Well, um --"

"Excellent." Thor walked in and closed the door behind him. He took a seat on Bruce's sectional. "I have missed you lately."

"Look, Thor, I'm not really good company --"

"You feel guilty. Instead of your strength helping your comrades, it injured them." Thor's tone was kind, but his words knocked the breath from Bruce, and he dropped into a chair.

"That's...yeah."

"Do you know most Asgardians believe we are superior to humans?" Thor asked after a moment. "We live much longer, are stronger and harder to kill, and rarely succumb to disease. Yet, a little box affected my mind so much that I retreated into myself and only thought about ancient Midgardian poetry that I learned as a boy. I ignored what was around me, and you know why? I was afraid. I was afraid that I didn't know what was real and what was not. I was afraid that I would hurt others."

He looked at Bruce. "Do you know what you did? I have seen the picture recordings. You tried to help everyone. You did tests in the medical bay and stayed talking to Stark until the lights flashed and you could not stop yourself from changing any longer. You stayed sane longer than any of the rest of us, because your need to help was greater than your fear."

"But I did change, and I did hurt people," cried Banner, flinging out his hands and sending his tea cup flying.

"Yes, you did," responded Thor quietly, bending to pick up the cup. "You did everything you could and someone still got hurt. The cup was broken into two pieces, and Thor studied them as they rested on his big hand. "So what will you focus on now? All of the good that you did? The fact that your actions helped us stay safe until help arrived? Or the injuries you caused by accident?"

"I don't know," cried Bruce, scrubbing his hands over his face and into his hair.

Thor stood. "I have lived a long time, and fought so many battles. I have learned much about who I trust to have my back. And I trust you. I hope you remember that." He turned to go, then turned back. "By the way, Barton believes the beast would not have killed him. He said it stopped fighting when he stopping firing at it. It roared, but did not attack. Just so you know." He walked out.

"Wait, what?" called Bruce, but the blonde was already gone. Bruce thought and thought that night, and didn't get any sleep at all. In the morning, when he went to the community kitchen to get his breakfast, his cup was sitting on the counter, carefully glued back together. He tested it and found it held liquid again. He had it in his hand went he went to visit Clint.

That evening, Tony sat on a couch in a quiet corner of the main lounge, uncharacteristically still. Sometimes, all of the memories that had haunted him refused to rest. Yinsen, his parents, Stane, visions of explosions and pain and death, all crowded in and frenetic activity couldn't calm it. He was staring into space when Steve walked in.

"Hey Tony," he said, and sat silently for a while. Tony ignored him, too caught up in his own head to make conversation, until Steve quietly began to talk. "I thought I was in the ice again. I woke up in the plane after crashing. I was almost too cold to move by then. I couldn't get out, so I laid down and...just laid there. It took so long before I was unconscious. It felt like years. Freezing, and unable to move. And I thought I was there again. I even thought that I'd never gotten out but had imagined all of this." He sighed. "And the nightmares had just started getting better." He leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs, and looked off into space.

After a long silence, Tony said, "I would have thought you'd think about the war. That couldn't have been fun."

Steve still didn't look at him, seeing something far beyond the room. "No, the war was...horrible. But at least there I could do something. I could make a difference. In the ice, nobody knew I was there, I knew they figured I was dead."

"Well, that sucks," said Tony, and Steve smiled a little, because he knew Tony didn't mean it callously. Then, "I thought I was in the cave in Afghanistan, and I knew my friend would die, but it played out over and over and over again and I was never able to save him. And then...then his face was yours, or Bruce's, or Thor's." He tugged at his hair. "I want to save people, but I can't. I always screw it up. Do you know I shot the scary duo's jet down? I could have killed them. People think I don't know, but I do."

"You targeted their wing," imparted Steve. "With the targeting computer, you could have blown them up, but you didn't. Even though you thought they were hostiles, you made sure not to kill them."

"God, I hope you're right, Rogers, but I just don't know any more."

"We do our best. That's all we can do. And then we learn to live with that."

There was another long silence, but this time it was a much more comfortable silence. "You're not half bad, old man. Let's drink beer and watch Monday night football like ordinary guys, okay?"

"I'd like that."

It was less than a quarter into the game when a furious Natasha strode into the lounge without saying a word. She was glaring at the ceiling as if it had insulted her mother. Glancing around, she grabbed a poker from the fireplace, shrugged out of her sling, and climbed onto the back of a couch. Steve and Tony exchanged baffled looks. Nat took the poker and banged it into the closest vent cover, making a loud clang against the metal.

"OW! Son-of-a-bitch!" came a voice from inside the ceiling.

"Clinton Francis Barton, if you are not back in the medical wing in 10 minutes, I will tell Nick Fury about what you did in Haiti and post your pictures from Taneesha's bachelorette party on the SHIELD intranet."

"C'mon, Tasha! They're just a bunch of vampires. I need a real bed to sleep in," whined the voice.

Tony began to smile. "Um, Natasha, maybe he could get permission to just spend evenings here, I mean with us. Pepper says we need to do some team building or some shit – sorry, Rogers. He can be back before bedtime, all cozy."

Nat turned her furious gaze to the millionaire, who held up his hands in surrender. "Steve, she has a weapon. Tell me you've got my back here."

"I think it's a good idea," admitted Steve. "Maybe we can even get Bruce to come out of his room."

Everyone except Nat held their breath, then she nodded. "Fine. But one more escape attempt and I tell them to sedate you, Clint. I'm not helping you get out of the ceiling either. Good luck with that." She stalked out, muttering in Russian, poker still in hand. Tony's eyes were huge.

A few minutes after she'd left, Clint's plaintive voice came from the vent again. "Any chance you two could leave until after I'm down? This isn't going to be pretty."

In the end, Steve helped a sweating and grumbling Clint down, while Tony gleefully took pictures. The other three all did come, and Pepper, and watched the rest of the game with varying degrees of interest. Natasha never did relinquish her her poker, and smirked every time Tony gave her a nervous look. He was dying to ask her about the bachelor party comment, but he didn't quite dare. Instead, he took to called Clint "Francis" until the latter commented, "You know I won't be injured forever, right?"

Clint sat next to Bruce, who gave him a grateful smile, and Nat unbent enough to sit on Clint's other side, eventually plunking her feet on his lap. Thor kept them all entertained with his enthusiasm over the game, which he called simulated warfare.

At a commercial, Bruce said quietly to Clint, "I'm sorry that it took me so long to come visit you." Everyone in the room knew that wasn't what he was really apologizing for.

"Eh," said Clint nonchalantly. "There's nothing to forgive, not for anyone here. It's a dangerous business and shit happens. I still would rather have y'all at my back than anyone else."

Bruce looked down at his tea cup and smiled.


End file.
